Beginnings, Inspiration

Upcoming Show: Bridge Mix

Tonight is opening night of my lastest project, Bridge Mix!  Just a few short weeks ago I received an email from the amazing Chelsea Haberlin from Itsazoo Productions inviting my company Delinquent Theatre to be part of Bridge Mix, an interactive site specific evening of theatre presented by Itsazoo and Enlightenment Theatre.  I had heard amazing things about last year’s Bridge Mix and was eager to get started on something creative right out of school, so I jumped on the opportunity.

 

My dear colleague Mishelle Cuttler and I, with help from cast members Ira Cooper, Brian Cochrane, Alexander Keurvorst, Britt MacLeod and Meaghan Chenosky created a 10 minute musical titled Parked: An Indie Rock Musical with Novelty Instruments as our contribution.  Delinquent Theatre is one of 9 indie theatre companies with an entry in Bridge Mix, and they are all fantastic!  I hope you will consider coming out.  For more details, head over to Delinquent Theatre’s website.  It’s been a blast, and I’d love to see you there!

Anxiety, Beginnings, Future, Inspiration

You Are Enough

In the first term of our first year of the BFA Acting Program at UBC, our teacher Stephen Heatley made us do an exercise. We sat along the wall of the studio, and one by one we were to walk in the door, stop in the middle of the room, spread our arms out, say our name with confidence and clarity, and walk out. Easy, right? Not exactly. We were at the beginning of our training, many of my classmates had just moved to Vancouver or moved out for the first time, and we were scared. Really scared. As we went up one by one, our movements told the story of our defence mechanisms. Some people used comedy, taking up a funny walk, a smirk to cover up the nervousness. Some people seemed aggressive, daring you to question them. Some people shook, looking at the floor, mumbling their name. Me? I ended up in hysterics (first laughing, then crying) and Stephen had to literally hold my hand to get me in the door and across the room. How is it that people who want to make a living performing in front of hundreds of people couldn’t simply introduce themselves in front of a dozen of their peers?

The lesson for the day was “You Are Enough” – one of Stephen’s famous ‘samplers’ for the first year BFA Actors.  The idea behind the exercise was to trust ourselves to be enough – no need for showboating, for nerves, or for an attack – just to walk in, breathe, say your name and leave and trust that simply being everything you are, just as you are, is enough.  That day revealed to everyone their ways of protecting themselves from revealing that truth, and started us on the road to uncovering the root of that deep-seated feeling we all have – that we are somehow inadequate.  In our chosen profession, we are forced to confront these feelings virtually on a daily basis, and finding security in oneself is vital to producing vulnerable, truthful work.  In the three years since we did that exercise all of us, as actors and just as twenty-somethings, have come a long way to sorting out that puzzle, to saying our names with confidence and bringing that sense of self to our work.  “You Are Enough” has become a favorite phrase in our group – sometimes as a punchline when someone does something dumb (“Aww, don’t worry, you are enough”) or as a frantic mantra when facing a stressful situation.   That nerve-wracking day in the studio feels far, far away now, and the lesson just a memory.

But now, facing the ‘real world’, I am suddenly keenly aware of its value.  I’ve been looking at the amazing season announcements and seeing the parts I dream of playing, and thinking “why would they ever choose me?”  It’s a terrifying prospect, knowing you are a little, nervous fish in a big pond now.  It’s time to start pursuing those dream gigs, and I just spent a few hours preparing my submissions, packing glossy photos of me looking oh-so-happy and chipper into envelopes, imagining them lost in a stack of hundreds of photos of happy-looking people all hoping for the same thing as me.  The only thing I can do is hang on to that lesson from first year – I am enough.  There are many talented actors out there, but I remind myself that I am unique in my experiences, my point of view, my humor and my life.  And that’s just the thing – whether you have more experience or less, look the part or not, none of us have an equal in our ability to tell a story.  Whether you’re up against stiff competition, whether you get the part or not, whether the doors open up for you or slam in your face, you must know deep down that you are enough.  Somehow, as an artist, you must believe that your voice is worth hearing.  As my class prepares to join the ‘real world’, I feel like we’re all back to being those shaky kids in the studio again.  I’m grateful though, to have a mantra to keep in my heart as we walk out and introduce ourselves.  Thank you, Stephen.

Beginnings, Future, Inspiration

Goodnight, Freddy

A view from the wings during Wild Honey

Tonight is the closing night of Wild Honey, and for the final years in the cast, it’s our last performance as part of the UBC Theatre season.  That’s it – next season has been announced, but we will be there only as loving audience members.  This is our last time to be on stage together as classmates.  I’m not going to pretend I’m not emotional – I was welling up last night at curtain call thinking about tonight’s final performance.  Wild Honey has been a truly wonderful time – we’ve had warm, receptive houses and a great time on and off stage as a company.  We have a fantastic cast and a truly kickass crew, led by Brian Cochrane and stage manager Emily Griffiths who have kept things lighthearted and efficient.  It’s a wonderful show to end our time at UBC with, and it’s with a heavy heart that I say goodbye to the sexy, wistful Wild Honey.

The Frederic Wood was the site of our callbacks for our admission into the acting program, our first studio show (The Dining Room), our first mainstage show, directed by Nicola Cavendish (The Laramie Project) and now our last mainstage performance.  This venue holds a lot of memories for us, and for the decades of students who came before us, too. There’s a white wall on the stage left side that every graduate signs – it’s an amazing thing to see.  Among the hundreds of signatures I recognize dozens of names, many of whom have gone on to be artists of national significance, and certainly names of people who have inspired me personally.  Every night as I stand backstage awaiting my entrance, I take a look at that wall knowing I’ll be signing it in just two weeks.  Tonight marks the end of our time on the Frederic Wood Stage, but with any luck, it’s only the beginning for us.

Anxiety, Beginnings, Future

Surviving the Wicked Stage

It’s January 4th and I’m deep in the throes of the new years resolution thing. I am somewhat of a goal setter no matter what, but this year I’m in it with a vengeance. There’s a few reasons: Firstly, it’s just natural to feel the need for change after the over indulgence of the holiday season.  As well, 2010 was good to me and I’m hoping to keep the ball rolling, strike while the iron is hot, hit the ground running and all of those cliches.

Of course, the main reason for this sudden rush of self-improvement is the fact that I will graduate from theatre school this May. I’ve dreamed of the day “when I graduate from theatre school” since I was 13 years old, with visions of national tours dancing through my head. The reality is a much sweatier, queasier kind of future, but that’s okay. Despite feeling like I might abruptly vomit whenever I remember my time as a student is coming to an end, I’m feeling excited and optimistic. And I feel like blogging about it.

Photo by Steph Meine
Us in class. Not pictured: sweat, blood, tears.

Back when I was a little younger, I used to love all those clichés and romanticized images of the theatre, and one of my favorite phrases was “life upon the wicked stage”. I chose this for the name of my blog because of its other meaning to me: I’m about to enter that wicked stage of life, fresh out of the nurturing womb of theatre school and hoping to make my mark in the big bad ‘real world’. Exciting times and disappointment both await, and while rough at times, I bet it will be wonderful too. So here I am, surviving that wicked stage.

Here goes nothing.